The Spaces in Between
by paradoxmachine
Summary: "Out of his control" was a state that Ianto hated getting used to. [Jack/Ianto, Oneshot, Post-Countrycide]


Setting: Post-Countrycide

* * *

Ianto's head thrummed with every beat of his pulse, shot through with grinding pain. His bruises had faded but hadn't quite healed, with the one on his forehead still a sickly yellow. And every day, the headaches. The rush of adrenaline jolting him from sleep every night, from distant sounds or flashes of memory.

To everyone else, stumbling into Texas Chainsaw Massacre had been… horrifying, of course, but it was the sort of fear that hit its peak and then faded away, stored neatly next to all the other traumatic, near-death experiences. For Ianto, it was harder to let go of.

The stench of blood so strong it was almost suffocating. The screaming. Knowing he could be next. Knowing he had to save her, no matter the cost.

Ianto's hand tightened on the mug he was polishing. He tried to ground himself, forcing himself to focus on his surroundings. But it was hard to listen to Gwen and Owen's thrilling banter with the sound of drills in his head.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Ianto sat the mug on a tray next to an identical pair. He forced his hands to steady as he poured the coffee. Focus on that, he told himself. A familiar, comforting smell, to drown out the stale scent of iron from his memory.

"Coffee?" Ianto offered Toshiko, standing at her desk. She took it and smiled wordlessly. He smiled politely back.

"Awright, great of you to offer me some, Ianto," Owen groaned from the other side of the room. "I had a hell of a night."

Gwen giggled, but Ianto didn't so much as look at her. He hadn't the slightest inclination to stick his nose anywhere near Gwen and Owen's 'bonding.' All he knew was that Gwen had a boyfriend, and that Owen didn't make a habit of making 'friends.' Best to ignore it.

Ianto held a cup out to Owen, but didn't bother with the smile. Owen didn't make a habit of 'thank you's or 'looking at him,' either. Gwen took a cup as he passed by, and around him the nattering continued.

He didn't have anything to add to a charming conversation about Weevil dress code, so with his duty done, he left the room. Which left him back where he'd started, minus that old routine.

Don't think about stained plastic curtains. Blood pooling on the ground. His face pressed against cold stone. The agony of helplessness. The inevitability of more pain. The threat of death so thick it made him choke on every breath.

This _headache_.

He poured two more cups, briefly pursed his lips, and then meandered off in the direction of Jack's office.

He'd be alone in a room with Jack, again. Jack would have something to say, like he always did. Some reassuring words and a comforting look that never quite reached his eyes. Jack's hand on his cheek. Jack's breath on his neck.

Was _that _really the solace he was looking for?

"Coffee, sir?" Ianto asked as he opened the door. He sat the tray on Jack's desk, and avoided looking directly at him. He fooled himself into believing Jack might just give him a job to do. Poke through the archives, while Tosh scans the records and Gwen performs an elaborate and valuable google search.

"My hero," Jack said, setting down an alien device reminiscent of a rubik's cube. A bad sign for a casual encounter; he was setting work aside. Jack looked up at him with a grin and that subtle searching look in his eyes.

Don't get up. He could just take his tray and go. This didn't have to be a _thing_.

Ianto leaned back against a corner of the wall that he knew wasn't visible from either outside the office or any of the CCTVs. There were very few points like this in the hub, but Ianto knew every one of them. Maybe he'd point them out one day, if it suited him.

"How are you, Ianto?" Jack asked, rising from his seat.

Here we go again.

"I'm fine, how are you, sir?" Ianto said. His careful attempts to stand casually ended up looking stiff and uncomfortable instead. Jack would call him out on it. He was getting well acquainted with this scenario.

"You look it," Jack said, leaning against the wall next to him on one arm. He reached up to touch the bruise on Ianto's forehead, but Ianto flinched away.

"Could be better," Ianto said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Still having nightmares?"

"I don't think I'll ever _stop _having nightmares, Jack," Ianto said calmly.

"The Soylent Green reveal getting you down?"

"It's not-…" Ianto paused, sighed. "It should bother me more that it was people, but that wasn't the worst of it for me."

"Oh?" said Jack, with an arched eyebrow and a frown.

"It was…"

Tied up on the floor with a bag over his head. No Tosh. No signs from anyone else. No one with him but an unconscious kid, but he could hear _them_ laughing in the next room.

"You thought we wouldn't come back for you," Jack said, and this time when he reached up to touch him, Ianto didn't flinch away. Indulging in Jack's touch was his guiltiest pleasure.

He didn't reply.

"I will always come back for you, Ianto Jones," Jack said firmly, stroking his back. Ianto put a hand on his elbow, and leaned in to kiss him.

Kissing Jack Harkness was like a revolution every time it happened. New and exciting in ways he never could have predicted. Maybe this was just what happened when a dinosaur dropped a man on you. Something like fate, but with a pterodactyl. He couldn't have stopped it if he tried.

He'd tried. He'd put in an admirable effort. But if snogging Jack Harkness was inevitable, he might as well make the best of it.

"Down there, when I was captured, I thought of you," Ianto admitted, when they parted for breath.

"Oh?" Jack said, tilting his head slightly, a hand still on his waist.

"I did know you wouldn't leave me there." Ianto kissed him between sentences. "I was only afraid that you wouldn't make it in time."

To this, Jack didn't have a quick and easy answer. He couldn't promise he'd always be there on time. Torchwood didn't work like that.

"_I_ was too late," Ianto said, pulling away suddenly. He pressed his hands against his forehead and paced to the other end of the office. "Lisa. Too late to save her. She was gone before I pulled her out."

Jack followed him.

"There's no way you could have known that," Jack said, pulling Ianto back into his arms. "You did everything you could."

"Is that it, then?" Ianto said, but he didn't pull away again. "We try our best, and if it doesn't work out, oh well?" Ianto shuddered. "Dying is so… _easy_. You slip on an ice cube, hit your head, and that's it. I can't stand it, Jack. Waking up in the morning and knowing this could be the day I lose someone I care about again. You, or Tosh, or Gwen, or even Owen."

"You don't have to go into the field again if you don't want to," Jack said, reaching up to pet his hair.

"No," said Ianto. "I'll go wherever you need me. It's just maddening, the helplessness. You know?"

"I know," Jack said, kissing his forehead. "Trust me, I know. But _I'm _looking out for all of you."

"And you?" Ianto said, pulling back just far enough to look Jack in the eye.

"You don't have to worry about me," said Jack.

Ianto hesitated. He could hear the sound of footsteps as someone scaled the metal walkway. He quickly stole one more kiss before slipping away back over to the desk to busy himself with the tray. Just in time.

Gwen threw open the door, waving her arms animatedly as she shouted something about a giant eight-legged goat creature hoofing people to death in Splott.

"I'll get the lasso," said Ianto, coughing into his hand. Jack tried to shoot him a look, but he was already out the door.


End file.
